2 Heroes & Hooligans in Goose Pimple Junction

by Amy Metz

  “Affirmative. Got no pulse. Technically speaking, he’s deader ‘n a doornail.”

  “We’ve got a body. Repeat, dead body. Call the chief, and then call the coroner’s office.”

  “What’s going on? Who’s dead? Isn’t that Martha Maye’s house?” Bernadette’s voice had reached a high pitch.

  “We haven’t identified the deceased yet. Call the chief, okay? Over.”

  She ran to Skeeter and the body on the lawn, a man positioned face up. Pulling the flashlight off her belt, she passed its beam over the still form, stopping on the face.

  “Holy cannoli.” Skeeter bent at the waist, leaning over the corpse to get a better look.

  One arm lay straight out to the side, the other was parallel to the body. The man’s legs were crossed at the ankles. His eyes were open and his mouth was slightly ajar.

  “Is this the way you found him?”

  “Uh, no.” Skeeter scratched his head. “I found him facedown. Figured we needed to turn him over so’s we could see his face.”

  “No! Don’t go touching nothing else. You’ll contaminate the scene. Is there an apparent cause of death?”

  Skeeter stood up straight. “Don’t rightly know. I saw it, you came. Not much time to look. Besides, dead bodies make me nervous.”

  “How many have you run across in your career anyway?”

  “Uh, including my meemaw?”

  “I mean in the line of work, fool. Not in a funeral parlor.”

  “Well then, this would be the second.”

  She moved the flashlight beam down the body, stopping at the man’s open jeans zipper. “For crying out catfish—”

  Another cruiser, lights flashing and siren wailing, came to a screeching halt at the curb in front of Martha Maye’s house. Johnny sprang out of the car and rushed to the officers, looking frantic.

  “Martha Maye? Where’s Martha Maye?”

  Lou looked at her watch. “Law child, where’s your mama? She’s been gone so long I’m beginning to wonder if she fell in.”

  Butterbean giggled. She had taken her taco shell off and now looked like a little pixie. “Where’s Aunt Imy?”

  “She’s over to the pumpkin seed spitting contest. I told her we’d meet her here.” Louetta led her granddaughter by the hand and the group followed.

  “I think they’ve held all the contests except for two,” Tess said. “Let’s head over to the polka and chicken dance contests.”

  “We can’t miss the chicken dance contest. Charlotte and Peekal are gonna be in it,” Lou said.

  Tess gave Jack a meaningful look. “No way,” he said. “Uh-uh. I am not entering any more contests tonight. You very nearly killed me as it is.” His cell phone rang, and he answered it with a finger over his ear so he could hear better.

  As Jack talked into the phone, Louetta looked around. “Anybody seen Martha Maye?”

  “No,” Tess said. “Not for a while.” Then she looked over Lou’s shoulder and pointed. “Oh! Here she comes now. Looks like she decided to leave the hoop slip at home.”

  “That dress is just as pretty without it.”

  The band broke into “Monster Mash,” and they watched the polka contestants gather. Jack held up a finger to Tess, signaling that he’d be just a minute. He smiled at Martha Maye before turning and walking away from the crowd to continue his phone conversation.

  Someone who pets a live catfish isn’t crowded with brains.

  ~Southern Proverb

  “Calm down, Chief, calm down.” Skeeter grabbed Johnny by the shoulders. “It’s not Martha Maye. It’s Lenny.” Johnny let out a huge rush of air and realized he’d been holding his breath for far too long. He bent over, bracing his hands just above his knees, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

  “Bernadette . . . said 115 Marigold . . . Martha Maye’s house—I thought . . .” His voice wavered, and he walked away from the two officers to collect himself. Skeeter came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Get it together, man. It’s not Martha Maye.”

  Johnny nodded, swiped his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and started barking out orders.

  “I want lights set up so we can see what we’re dealing with. Velveeta, call in and request an investigator, and get your crime scene kit. Skeeter, tape it off—the whole lawn. Hell, the whole block. I want all the neighbors questioned. Anyone seen Martha Maye?”

  “Far’s I know, she’s still in the town square,” Skeeter said.

  Johnny got out his cell phone and called Jack, who picked up on the third ring. He could hear “Monster Mash” playing in the background.

  “Hey Johnny, where’d you disappear to—”

  “Jack, we got us a situation. Have you seen Martha Maye?”

  “No, actually we were just—wait a minute.” After a few seconds and some muffled talking, Jack came back on the line. “Here she comes now. Want to talk to her?”

  “No. Listen up, I want you to get where you can talk privately. Right quick.”

  Johnny could hear movement and breathing for a few moments and then, “Okay. What’s wrong?”

  “Lenny Applewhite is dead.”

  “Come again?”

  “He’s no longer eligible for the census.”

  “Johnny, I know what dead means. I just didn’t know if I heard you right. What happened?”

  “Don’t know, other than he’s lying in Martha Maye’s front yard, and his condition is non-conducive to life. Here’s what I need you to do: Get Lou and have her take Butterbean to her house before word gets out. As soon as they’re gone, tell Tess and Martha Maye what’s going on, then bring them over here. And do not–and I repeat do not–let this get out. I shouldn’t be calling you, but I know I can trust you, and I need your help. I want Martha Maye to be somewhat prepared for what’s over here, but I don’t want Butterbean finding out about this at the Oktoberfest. Tell Lou to let Butterbean spend the night at her house. Tell her you’ll explain later.”

  “Sure. Sure thing, Johnny.”

  “Hurry up, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jack said to the air, because Johnny had already hung up.

  Jack went quickly to Lou. He leaned over and whispered in her ear: “I’ll explain later, but right now I need you to take Butterbean home, get her in bed pronto, no questions asked. I promise we’ll explain as soon as we can. I’m taking Tess and Martha Maye with me.”

  Her forehead took on more wrinkles as it creased in confusion. She tilted her head, and he said, “Soon. I promise. Now get going, all right?”

  She studied his face and swallowed hard. “All right.” She returned to the group with a smile pasted on her face. “Alrighty, let’s take this party back to my house.” Jack heard some mild protesting from Butterbean, as he told Martha Maye and Tess to come with him. They looked questioningly at him, and he led them away from everyone to tell them the news.

  “Why’s Mama and them leaving so soon? What’s going on?”

  “Martha Maye, something’s happened.” Jack put his hand on her arm. “Something awful.”

  “What? Is it Johnny?” she asked anxiously, looking around.

  “No, Johnny’s fine.” He gently pushed her shoulders back so she faced him. “But he’s working a murder scene.”

  Martha Maye searched around them as if she had an irrational need to ensure her mother, daughter, and aunt were all right, even though she’d just seen them. She turned back to Jack. “Murder? Who—”

  “It’s Lenny.”

  “It’s L . . . L . . . L . . .” Her mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out.

  Tess found her voice. “It’s Lenny? He’s –”

  “Metabolically challenged,” Jack finished for her.

  “Jack, this is hardly a time for jokes.” Tess put her arm around Martha Maye, who stood with her hand over her mouth, staring blankly into the night, too stunned to form thoughts or words.

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It just seems gentler than saying he’s .
. . dead. Martha Maye, do you think you can walk? Johnny wants us over there.”

  She nodded, and he took her right arm, while Tess took the left. They steered her toward Marigold Lane.

  “Where is he?” Martha Maye asked as they worked their way through the crowd.

  “Martha Maye.” He stopped and looked down at her for a long moment before saying, “I’m afraid he’s in your front yard.”

  Twenty minutes later, Martha Maye had hurriedly changed into jeans and a T-shirt and sat sideways in Johnny’s cruiser, her legs dangling out of the car and a dazed expression on her face.

  Johnny crouched in front of her, his hands wrapped around her forearms. “It’s gonna be all right, Martha Maye. We’ll get this figured out.”

  She nodded at him, her face white, eyes wide. She rubbed her forehead and swallowed hard. He was worried about her. She hadn’t said more than four words since she arrived on the scene.

  He stood up and saw Jeb Hefflefinger, the investigator from the coroner’s office, standing by the body. Johnny motioned to Tess to come over. “Be right back, Martha Maye. You be all right with Tess for just a minute?” She nodded, and he walked over to the investigator, who was peeling off his gloves.

  “Whatcha got, Jeb?”

  “At first glance, nothing, Chief. Not much fixed lividity. No blanching, and certainly no rigor yet. STD says he can’t be more than a few hours dead.”

  “He had a . . . disease?”

  “No. Technical term.”

  “Oh?”

  “Stab in the dark.”

  Johnny bit the inside of his mouth, trying not to smile. He didn’t want anyone seeing him smiling over Lenny’s dead body.

  “To tell you the truth, Chief, at first I didn’t see a cause of death, but I felt around the body and finally found this.” Jeb had turned the body onto its stomach. He moved the hoodie away from Lenny’s skin and pointed his flashlight at a slit on the back of the neck.

  “This is it, Chief. A fatal knife wound. Just one puncture, far’s I can see. Must’ve hit an artery, and he went right down. I’ll bet when we get him back to the office and look at his hoodie, we’ll find this slice lines up with the knife wound to his neck.” Jeb pointed the flashlight beam at the edge of Lenny’s gray hoodie where a cut was visible. Then he lifted the hoodie and T-shirt underneath and shined the light on Lenny’s back. “There’s a little lividity, but like I said, no blanching evident, so I don’t think he can be more than a few hours gone.”

  “Can’t be more than two hours,” Johnny said, as Hank and Skeeter walked up with Estherlene Bumgarner. The officers stared at him, and he added, “I just saw the man about two hours ago. He was alive and kicking then. Almost literally.”

  Johnny turned to Estherlene. “Evening, ma’am. Can you tell us what you saw tonight?”

  Estherlene pulled her fluffy pink robe tight against the cool night air. “Shoot fire, I could just kick myself for missing all the commotion. I’ve been soaking in the tub, reading my new book all night. It’s a goodun, too, and I purt near stayed in the water until I was a prune.” She leaned toward Johnny conspiratorially and said, “And a woman my age doesn’t need any more help looking like a prune, let me tell you, but this book—it’s called Gulf Boulevard—I just couldn’t put it down –”

  “Okay, Estherlene, it’s okay.” Johnny raised his hands to stop her blabbering. “Think hard. You sure you didn’t see anything? Hear anything?” She shook her head, biting a hangnail. “What about Hector?”

  “Law, no. That man’s been dead to the world since eight thirty. Fact is, he’s still sleeping, even through all this excitement. The man can’t hear a thing over his snoring—”

  “Okay.” The chief nodded. “Okay, Estherlene, thank you. That’ll be all for now. You let us know if you remember anything at all. Thank you.”

  Velveeta walked up. “Chief, pardon me if I’m overstepping, but you need to let us handle this. You’re too personally involved.” He stared at her, then swept his gaze to Hank, motioning with his eyes for him to lead Estherlene out of earshot.

  Once they’d walked off, Velveeta continued. “We’ll report to you, of course, but I think it’s best for you and the department if you’re not involved in the investigation. Let me question Martha Maye.”

  “What for?” he asked testily.

  “You know what for. Family members are always the first suspects. Do her a favor and let me clear her, okay?” Velveeta spoke kindly but firmly.

  “All right.” Johnny raised his hands as if to surrender. “Talk to her now.”

  Johnny watched Velveeta approach his cruiser and speak to Martha Maye. He studied the crowd forming and conferred with Hank until Jeb tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Uh, Chief?” Jeb said.

  “Yeah?”

  “One more thing. Uh, you can’t see it now, because I turned him over. But, uh, I’m not real sure why, but when I first examined him, his fly was open, and”—he rubbed the back of his neck and motioned at his own zipper—”his ding-a-ling was sticking out.” Johnny’s eyebrows shot up, but just then Velveeta returned, looking somber. Jeb backed away.

  “Chief, she’s got about twenty, thirty minutes where she says she was alone tonight. Says she walked to Lou’s house to use the bathroom because it was closer. Said it took her a while because the dress she wore had a hoop slip. Did you ever try to pee with one of those things on?”

  Johnny blushed and said no, he hadn’t.

  “Well, me neither, but I don’t see how she managed it. I really don’t. I reckon she had to take the whole thing–”

  “Velveeta!” Johnny snapped. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is, she doesn’t have an alibi for about twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. And everybody and their brother knew there was animosity between her and the deceased. I’m new in town, and even I knew. I’m just saying.”

  “What exactly are you saying?” Johnny’s voice grew impatient.

  “It’s just”—she kicked at the gravel—”I think we got to be careful and go by the book. We need to take her in for questioning tonight. We don’t want anyone saying you played favorites.”

  Johnny was quiet a minute, his eyes scanning the area. “All right. By the book. But I’m taking her in.”

  “You think that’s wise, Chief?” Skeeter asked.

  “I’m taking her in.” Johnny’s tone and glare suggested it was not open for discussion.

  Word had gotten out about the dead body on Marigold Lane, and a crowd had formed. Hank Beanblossom was trying to ward people off with both arms outstretched.

  “Y’all gwon back to the party. Nothing to see here, folks. Gwon back. Nothing to see.”

  Johnny went to his car and quietly explained to Martha Maye why she had to go to the station with him. He helped get her legs into the car and asked Jack and Tess to follow so they could take Martha Maye home once she was through with questioning.

  On the way to the police station, she said, “Johnny, you know I didn’t have anything to do with this, right?”

  He looked in the rearview mirror, caught her eye, and said, “Of course.”

  “He was mean enough to bite himself, and I couldn’t wait to divorce him, and I thought he was a no-good, lying, dirty cur dog, but I’d never kill him. You know that, right?”

  “Yes I do, sweet pea. As much as I know my own name. Don’t you worry. We’ll follow procedure and get you free and clear of this. Don’t you worry. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. I had my cops on him like a dingleberry.”

  “Why on earth would they do that?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  They arrived at the station, and Johnny escorted Martha Maye into his office.

  She sat in the chair in front of his desk, and he leaned down to her. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Outta here.”

  Johnny could see the worry in her eyes behind the face she made to lighten the mood. He grasp
ed her hand and squeezed. “Just sit tight. You’ll be outta here in no time.”

  “Why don’t you do one of them tests on my hands? You know, to see if there’s any blood whatchacallit.”

  “Residue?”

  She nodded.

  “There wasn’t much blood at the scene. I don’t think there would have been any on the killer’s hands. It appears the knife went in and came out clean, stopping the heart from pumping any blood outta the body. I don’t think a luminol kit would do any good, unless he—or she—wiped the knife on his or her hands.”

  From the doorway, Jack said, “And somebody could claim you were wearing gloves anyway.”

  “Jack, you shouldn’t be back here. You’re not supposed to interfere with police business.”

  “Chief, a little-known fact about me–”

  Johnny raised his eyebrows.

  “I have a law degree. Let’s just say I’m here as her counsel.” Jack came into the office and sat next to Martha Maye, resting his hand on hers.

  “You’re skating on thin ice, man. Everybody knows you haven’t practiced law in years. Is your license even current?”

  “No, and you’re correct, I haven’t practiced for years, but I can be of counsel until a lawyer is hired.”

  “A lawyer! I’m going to need a lawyer? I can’t afford that. Oh Lord.” Tears formed in her eyes.

  Jack patted her hand. “Just a precaution.”

  Just then Velveeta rushed in, followed by Skeeter. “We found the murder weapon!” She was so excited she was nearly breathless. “I’ll see if we can get some prints off it.” She held up a long knife encased in a plastic evidence bag.

  Johnny studied the bag but said to Velveeta, “Good work. Where was it?”

  “In the bushes. The killer must have tossed it. I don’t know if he”—her eyes went to Martha Maye—”or she”–she looked back at Johnny–”dropped it accidentally or on purpose, but we got it.”

  “Terrific. Martha Maye’s prints are on file from the home invasion a few weeks ago. We can compare the two.”